


Deep, velvet voice

by Sherlocked_Moriartied



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Potterlock AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 04:43:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1291792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked_Moriartied/pseuds/Sherlocked_Moriartied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the summer holidays, John and Sherlock go back again to Hogwarts for their fifth year, but Sherlock seems different or, better, he has something different.<br/>During the summer his voice dropped, getting deeper and that's when John realises that he's just fell in love with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep, velvet voice

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine showed me a prompt she has found on tumblr and I told myself "Why not? Let's try and write this", so...here it is. I tried doing something good and cute. Hope you all like it.
> 
> As always, English is not my first language so, if you notice any mistake, at all, please tell me.  
> Not Beta'ed.

John had never thought he could like boys. Not that he had something against who did, not at all. He just couldn’t even bring himself to think about it. He liked girls, he was sure of that, and at Hogwarts there were so many it was impossible to decide who he liked the most. Just in his house alone there were a few he would have kissed with pleasure.  
Or so he thought until his fifth year, when he came back from the summer holidays. He was wandering into the train, searching for an empty carriage but, mostly, searching for his friend Sherlock. He didn’t even know how he became friends with the boy: he was strange, bizarre, even for a wizard, and mostly: he was incredibly smart. Probably the smartest guy he had ever had the pleasure to know.  
Unfortunately, as smart as he was, he was also a git and a right arsehole when he wanted to be and sometimes John wondered if he should have been in Slytherin instead of Ravenclaw.  
When he finally found him, the boy was sitting alone –as always- looking out of the window, his black, curly hair lit by the sun, as well as his pale skin. He was attractive, he couldn’t deny that. After all, there were girls squeaking every time they saw him, in particularly Molly Hooper, a bright girl from Hufflepuff, who seemed completely in love with the mad man.  
But John had never found him _that_ attractive. He was his best friend, for God’s sake, and he was a boy. 

“Hey, Sherlock! Had a nice summer?” he asked, getting into the train compartment and sitting in front of him. Sherlock, who rarely smiled, did so when he saw John.  
“Hello, John.” He simply said and in that moment, the Gryffindor boy knew he was screwed, because Christ! His voice! What the hell happened to it?  
Sherlock had always had a normal tone of voice: neither too high nor too deep. He just had an usual voice for a fourteen years older. But now...oh dear, now it was completely different. Deep, intense...long story short, it was the sexiest voice John had ever heard.  
“W-what happened to your voice?” he asked, stupidly blushing. Why the hell was he blushing now??  
Sherlock scoffed, rolling his eyes.  
“It dropped down, of course. It happens to everyone, is quite normal, John. Never heard of it?” he asked, arching an eyebrow, and the blond boy nodded stupidly.  
“Yes, sure, but...” he didn’t even know what to say. Sherlock looked at him as if he was mad or something and John just shook his head.  
“Ah, let it go. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I never expected it to be that...profound.” he said in the end and the Ravenclaw laughed.  
“Profound? Couldn’t you come up with a better term?” Sherlock mocked him and John shivered, listening to him laugh. Why it had such an effect on him?  
He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head and looking away, embarrassed. This was going to be difficult.  
“Yeah, sorry. So, tell me about your summer...”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In the next weeks, John couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock, which was absurd, because it had never happened before. Yes, he had thought about him, during the summer, but in a friendly way. Now every time he thought about the boy, his mind was filled of images of him slamming his best friend against the nearest wall and kissing him. More than once, John woke up with an erection. Nothing new, of course, but usually it was because he had dreamt about some girl, not about Sherlock. He couldn’t even look at the other without feeling shivers running down his spine. And when he talked... he didn’t even want to think about those moments.  
“Damn it!” he mumbled one day, sitting on the shore of the Lake, throwing rocks in the water. He had never been that confused in all his life. The strange thing was that when he was with the other boys, he felt nothing, absolutely nothing, but with Sherlock was entirely different. It was like he was an exception to the rule. He started asking himself if he was bisex, but the truth was that he was ‘Sherlock sexual’, because the other was the only one who could make him feel like that.  
He sighed, hugging his knees and burying his face into them, closing his eyes. He had never felt more confused and the worst was that he couldn’t even tell Sherlock. He didn’t even know if the boy was interested in men or women, because he never spoke about his sexual preferences. He only seemed interested in lessons and homeworks, nothing else. And, of course, John was his only friend. Well, there was Greg, but they weren’t really friends. Greg was more his ‘protector’ or something like that, just because Sherlock’s brother, Mycroft, who graduated four years ago, asked him to keep an eye on the Ravenclaw.  
And then there was Victor, a Slytherin boy with which Sherlock had seemed to connect recently. They apparently were always together, and John had felt almost betrayed, because he thought he was the only one able to have that kind of relationship with the other.  
Just thinking at the two of them together made John clench his jaw in anger. He shouldn’t feel like that. After all, he had other friends as well and Sherlock had never complained before, but it was different, somehow, because, until now, John had felt special. And now there was this Victor.  
“Sod it!” he grumbled, taking another stone and throwing it away. 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“This lesson was way too difficult, don’t you think? It seems like the teachers are making it on purpose. It’s impossible to understand!” John complained, getting out of Transfiguration class.  
“It’s actually quite normal, John. It’s our fifth year, lessons are supposed to be harder. And by the way, it was all very simple.” He said, with a shrug and John chuckled.  
“Ah yes, I almost forgot you are a little genius or whatever.” He smirked and Sherlock mirrored him. It wasn’t just his voice anymore. The more John looked at him, the more he fell in love, little by little. He adored everything about him. The little wrinkles that formed around his eyes every time he smiled, his sharp cheekbones, and those cupid bow lips that, shit, he wanted to kiss so badly.  
He sighed, rubbing his face. _‘Stop it, John!’_ he thought, as they walked towards the Great Hall, for dinner. Suddenly, Victor appeared at their side and Sherlock gave him a big smile, one John had never seen before. He couldn’t really understand what the boy liked about the Slytherin. Yes, he was the classic, attractive guy with the attitude of a bastard. He had green eyes and black, straight hair and what John hated the most was how Victor looked at him, with a smile of triumph in his face. He wanted to punch him.

“I’ll skip lunch John. I’ll see you later.” Said Sherlock suddenly and John nodded, dumbly, looking at the two of them walking away. He couldn’t believe it, he really couldn’t. Little by little, John felt like the Ravenclaw was getting away from him and the blond felt as if something was crushing his chest and it hurt him. He sighed, shaking his head, as he reached the Great Hall and he flopped down on the bench of his table, putting his books aside and starting eating. 

“Everything alright, John?” he heard a voice next to him and he turned his head, sighing. Mary, a girl from the fourth year, sat beside him, smiling sweetly. She was very nice and, before now, he really thought he could feel something for her, but now it seemed unlikely. Not because she wasn’t pretty, which she was –short blonde hair, big blue eyes, always happy- but because there was Sherlock now and he couldn’t think about anyone else.  
“Yeah, of course I’m alright. Why shouldn’t I be?” he asked, taking a forkful of chicken. She giggled, shrugging.  
“I don’t know. I thought you would be nervous for tomorrow.”  
John arched an eyebrow, confused, and she laughed.  
“Don’t tell me you forgot. The Quidditch game, of course! Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff, remember?” she reminded him and John groaned, closing his eyes. Damn, he was so caught up by the whole situation with Sherlock that he had almost forgot about the game. And he was the captain –and Beater- , he should remember things like that.  
“Ah, yes. Sorry. No, it’s fine, I’m okay.” He smiled at her, trying to sound convincing.  
“Hmm, if you say so.” She winked before standing up. “I’ll cheer for you. I’m sure you’ll be great.” Mary said in the end, before waiving a hand and getting out of the Hall. John sighed, resting his head on the table. He was screwed. 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He had never felt this nervous before, and he couldn’t understand why. The team was currently winning –they had already scored 200 points, while the other team just 50- and he was in a great shape. He loved Quidditch, he really did. It was a great sport and, yes, it was dangerous, as Sherlock kept reminding him, but he couldn’t really help but adore the feeling of flying around. It seemed like he was the king of the world.  
And maybe the reason why he was so off that day, was because, for the first time, Sherlock was there, looking at him playing. He had begged him to come and see him for ages, but the boy had always refused to. He kept saying that Quidditch was boring and he couldn’t understand why it was so fascinating to others. That’s why he had been surprised to see him there, in the bleachers.  
But he couldn’t keep staring at the boy, he was in the middle of a game, for God’s sake, and he had a job to do. He looked around, hitting another Bludger right in time, before looking around for the Snitch. He couldn’t see it and even their Seeker, Mike Stamford, seemed unable to find it. He just hoped that the little ball was going to pop up, somehow, because he really wanted to end this game and go and talk to Sherlock. As he thought that, he looked again towards the bleachers and, for a moment, their eyes met.  
He could see Sherlock giving him a smile, waving his hand, and John did the same, his heart beating faster. And in that right moment he heard someone scream “John!” and then everything went black.

When he woke up, his head was pounding and he felt dizzy. What the hell happened? He looked around, trying to understand where he was, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open.  
“Hello, John.” He heard Sherlock’s velvet voice and he couldn’t help but smile. That voice was incredibly soothing.  
“Am I dead?” he chuckled, turning his head to look at the boy and he was beautiful, as always.  
“No, you idiot, you’re in the infirmary. While you were too focused waving at me, you got hit right in the face by a Bludger and fell off your broom.” He sighed, shaking his head, but he was smiling lightly, so he wasn’t angry. Maybe a little worried, or at least John hoped so.  
“That explains why my head hurts so much.” He groaned, trying to sit up straight. “Why are you here? Thought you were with Victor.” He said, trying not to make it obvious how jealous he was and Sherlock laughed quietly.  
“Yeah, well, apparently my best friend had a little incident, so I thought that, maybe, he was definitely more important.” He replied, looking at him in the eyes and John smiled.  
“So you think I’m important? That’s nice coming from you. It’s the first time you say something like this.” He smirked and Sherlock, rolled his eyes.  
“I thought it was fairly obvious, John. And don't worry, I won't say it again.” He said, arching an eyebrow and the blond couldn’t help but laugh. God, he loved him.  
“Yeah, well... it wasn’t. But now I know, so we’re good.”  
“Perfect. And by the way, I know what you’re thinking. About Victor I mean. There’s nothing going on between me and him, if that’s what you were worried about.” He grinned and John blushed.  
“I wasn’t worried. I couldn’t care less. Why should I care?” he said quickly looking away. He could hear Sherlock chuckle and it made John shiver.  
“No reason at all. Well, I should go now. Sleep, okay?” the curly haired boy said, standing from the chair he was seated on.  
“I will. Good night.” John said and Sherlock waved a hand, starting to walk away. John bit his bottom lip. He needed to tell him, he couldn’t keep it any longer.  
“Sherlock?” he called and the other turned around.  
“Yes?”  
John took a deep breath, but nothing came out of his mouth.  
“Nothing. Sleep well.” He smiled awkwardly and Sherlock nodded, before getting out of there. John flopped back down on the bad and closed his eyes.  
“Watson, you’re an idiot.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It had been a few months now and John still had problems telling Sherlock the truth. He just couldn’t do it, it seemed impossible. And there were so many things that could go wrong. What if Sherlock said he wasn’t interested? What if he was disgusted by the thought alone? In every case, he was scared of ruining their friendship and he wanted to keep that, at least.  
Christmas was coming fast and slowly Hogwarts was being covered by the snow. It had been five years now, but John couldn’t get used to how beautiful that place was. He was lucky being there and he thanked the day he received that letter.  
It was night and he was looking out of the window, the snow slowly falling down, when suddenly a owl started tapping at the glass and John almost had a heart attack. He quickly let it in, and he noticed that it had a piece of paper in its beak. He took it, before opening the window again and letting the bird get out of there.  
As he saw the handwriting, he could tell that it was from Sherlock and frowned, wondering what he could possibly want that he couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

_“I’ll wait for you in the Astronomy Tower. Come if convenient. If inconvenient, come anyway.”_

John couldn’t help but chuckle as he read that and he sighed, quickly taking his cloak and getting out of his common room. Being careful, he reached the tower and, taking a deep breath, he got in, finding Sherlock there. He had never seen someone more beautiful, the light of the moon lighting up his face. He gulped, approaching to him.  
“Hey. What’s wrong?” he asked, getting closer to him and Sherlock turned around to look at John.  
“I wanted to give you my Christmas present.” He said and John laughed.  
“Couldn’t you wait until tomorrow?” he smirked and the Ravenclaw shook his head.  
“No. It has to be now.” He said, with a firm tone and John sighed, rolling his eyes.  
“Fine, then, what it i-“  
He was cut off middle sentence because Sherlock had, suddenly, pressed his lips against his and now his arms were full of the boy. He was startled, because he surely wasn’t expecting that, not now, not ever, but he couldn’t really complain. After overcoming the initial shock, John started kissing Sherlock back, pushing him against a wall. They kept kissing for a while, before pulling away from each other, catching their breath.  
“What...what was that for?” John asked and Sherlock grinned.  
“I wanted to do this for a while now. I just needed the right time. I noticed how you looked at me, John, since the first day we got back here. Thought I was inexperienced enough to not recognise when someone is in love?”  
John laughed, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you did this before me.”  
“Yes, well...I got a little help.” Sherlock smiled and John frowned.  
“By who?”  
“Victor, of course. I asked him what was the best move to make you realise you had a crush on me. I have to admit, it was easy.” He chuckled and John sighed, rubbing his face.  
“You’re a little bastard you know?”  
“Yes, and that’s why you like me.” The Ravenclaw chuckled and John couldn’t help but nod, before staring at him straight in the eyes.  
“Merry Christmas, Sherlock.”  
“Merry Christmas, John.” The other said, before kissing him again. And a Merry Christmas was, indeed.


End file.
